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Emily Weller stood in front of Oscar’s grave, the cold autumn air biting at her skin. It had been a week, and the ache in her chest hadn’t dulled. She wasn’t sure it ever would. Losing him was like losing a part of herself—one that had dreamed of escaping the chaos, of running away together, far from the mess of the FBI, Sandstorm, and the lies that had twisted their lives beyond recognition.
She had promised herself she would be strong, for Kurt, for her family. But as she turned to leave the cemetery, a strange feeling settled in her gut. It wasn’t grief this time. It was something else. Something… wrong.
That night, she returned to her apartment, her mind clouded with exhaustion. She barely noticed the small envelope resting on her kitchen table—until she did. And when she picked it up, her breath hitched. The handwriting was unmistakable.
Oscar’s.
Her hands shook as she tore open the envelope, her heart pounding in her ears.
*Meet me. Midnight. The pier.*
She couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t possible. It had to be a cruel joke, a hallucination brought on by grief. But deep down, she knew. She knew Oscar, and she knew he would never leave her. Not really.
The hours dragged on like years, each second stretching into eternity. She paced the apartment, her thoughts a tangled web of hope and fear. Could it really be him? Or was she walking into a trap? Kurt had warned her about the dangers of lingering in the past, of holding onto ghosts. But this wasn’t a ghost. This was Oscar. It had to be.
When the clock struck midnight, Emily stood at the edge of the pier, the waves lapping at the wooden beams beneath her. Every rational thought screamed at her to leave, to turn back before she got herself hurt—or worse. But then a shadow emerged from the darkness.
Oscar.
He was thinner, his face gaunt, but those eyes—those damn eyes—were still the same. The moment he saw her, a breath of relief left his lips.
"Emily," he whispered, stepping closer.
Her knees nearly buckled. "You're dead. I buried you. I—"
"It was a lie," he said quickly. "A setup. They had to make everyone believe I was gone to keep you safe. I couldn’t reach out, couldn’t let you know. But I couldn't stay away. Not from you."
Tears blurred her vision as anger and love warred inside her. "Do you have any idea what you put me through?"
"I do," he said, voice thick with regret. "And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you—if you still want that."
Emily swallowed hard. "We always planned to run, didn’t we? Just the two of us? No more secrets?"
Oscar nodded. "We can still have that. If you trust me."
She didn’t hesitate.
Taking his hand, she whispered, "Let’s go."
As they disappeared into the night, Emily knew there was no turning back. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t care.
They moved quickly, keeping to the shadows, slipping through the city unnoticed. Oscar led her to a safehouse—small, barely furnished, but safe. The adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her from questioning the reality of what was happening. She was running away with a dead man, a man who had been taken from her and given back just as suddenly.
She sat down on the edge of a battered couch, her legs finally giving out. Oscar knelt in front of her, his hands hesitating before taking hers. "Emily, I need you to understand something. They will come for us. They always do. If we do this, we can never go back. Are you sure?"
She searched his face, seeing the weight of what he was asking. "I’ve never been more sure of anything."
He exhaled slowly, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "We leave at dawn. There’s a plane waiting. South America. We can disappear."
Emily nodded. "Then let’s disappear."
The night stretched on as they planned, whispered words and hurried preparations filling the silence. When exhaustion finally won, Emily fell asleep curled against Oscar, her hand gripping his shirt as if afraid he might vanish again.
Morning came too soon. They slipped through the city, changing cars twice, always watching for a tail. Every moment was a risk, every step closer to freedom tainted by the fear of being caught. But as the airport came into view, Emily’s pulse quickened. They were so close.
And then she saw him.
Kurt.
He stood by the terminal entrance, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—his eyes were filled with disappointment, with heartbreak.
Emily froze. Oscar tensed beside her.
Kurt took a slow step forward. "You don’t have to do this."
She swallowed hard. "Yes, I do."
"Emily—"
"Kurt, please," she pleaded. "I love you, but I can’t live this life anymore. I can’t keep pretending I don’t want this."
Kurt’s jaw clenched. "He’s lying to you. He always has. You know that."
Emily turned to Oscar, searching for any sign of deception. But all she found was the same truth she had seen in his eyes a thousand times before.
"No more lies," she said softly. "Tell me the truth."
Oscar nodded. "No more lies."
She exhaled, turning back to her brother. "Then let me go."
Kurt’s shoulders sagged. He knew he had lost. "If you ever need me—"
"I’ll always need you," she said. "But I need this more."
With one last, heartbreaking look, she turned and walked through the doors, Oscar’s hand in hers.
The plane waited. Their future waited. And as the city disappeared beneath them, Emily Weller finally felt free.